Rain has been coming down in sheets since the early hours of this morning, beating first light in a race to wake the world. Thunder rumbled long and low, vibrating the dog out of the bed and to the presumed safety of the couch with its protective layer of pillows and throws. A frog’s song began, celebrating the deluge—more croak than music, but I smiled nonetheless.
Then there are my birds, ever tenacious, gathering in the downpour fighting for space on the feeders. Wrens find respite on the porch. They shake the water from their wings and look at me through the glass door, indignant, as if to say, where is our breakfast Lady?! More smiles.
Is it possible that I’ve never seen such a congregation? How are there so many? Do they delight in the morning rain as much as I? This glorious rising is the moment, is the miracle for which I live.
Good morning all! Be blessed, I hope your day is perfection.
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